


making your way in the world today

by frak-all (or_ryn)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse, Pining for the idea of a person, Swearing, alternate fic title: don't proposition people in the service industry, i.e. 'a swear word that makes americans feel really uncomfortable', love takes work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/or_ryn/pseuds/frak-all
Summary: Ben lets out a breath, watching Rey.He’s never had a usual before. He’s never been a regular before.He likes it.He likes her.He’s pretty sure he’sin lovewith her, actually, and that’s something that’s never happened for him before, either.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 112
Kudos: 503
Collections: A Rey by Any Other Name





	making your way in the world today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/gifts).



> This is my first time writing anything this short in a minute and a half, and ain't gonna lie, I'm kinda nervous about it. 
> 
> Dropdead _stunning_ moodboard by HarpiaHarpyja. Thank you for the inspiration—I really hope you enjoy!

  


**March**

“Want another?” the bartender asks. 

Dimples—actual _dimples—_ form on her cheeks. 

Ben’s stomach flips like a pancake. “Sure,” he says, sliding over his empty glass. 

Somehow, her smile widens. “Great!” she says. “Coming right up.” 

The drink he’s ordered is a small thing. Purple and bubbly, made with ingredients like _organic_ lavender syrup and _herbaceous_ lemon vodka. 

It is, without a doubt, the very _last_ thing he would ever order for himself. But it’s also what she’d recommended two weeks ago when he’d come in for a client meeting, and—well. 

Here he is. 

After dropping off his drink, the bartender lingers, idly wiping the counter with a rag. She fixes him with another small smile. 

“So," she asks, "how was your day?” 

Ben tries to remember the last time he was asked that question and comes up with a blank. 

  


  


  


  


**April**

“This Hux guy sounds like a fucking cunt.” 

Ben chokes on his drink. 

Bubbles burn the inside of his nose. He only _just_ manages to keep from sputtering all over the bar. 

“Jesus. You okay?” 

He coughs, gasping. “Fine.” 

The bartender—Rey; _Rey_ —shoves a wad of cocktail napkins at him. “You Americans, I swear. What is it with you and that word? Why do you hate it so much?” 

“We don’t—” he wipes his face, “—we don’t _hate_ it.” 

Rey crosses her arms. “Cunt,” she says. “Cunt, cunt, _cunt_.” 

Ben squirms. “Okay,” he laughs. “Okay, you’ve proven your point.” 

“Thought so.” Her hazel eyes twinkle. Then they flick to his drink. “Want another?” 

It’s empty. Again. 

He blinks. “Oh. Sure.” 

When Rey returns, she balls her hand into a fist. It slaps her open palm with a heavy _thwack_. “This Hux guy ever comes in here—” she punches her palm again, “—you just let me know.” 

His lip quirks up. “Why’s that?” 

“I’m gonna fuck him up,” she says. “Obviously.” 

_Obviously_. 

Ben smiles into his drink. 

  


  


  


  


**May**

“Alright, sure. You’ve said that. But what does a hedge fund manager _actually do_?” 

Rey has cut her hair at some point in the last week. It’s chin-length now, and gorgeous. 

_She’s_ gorgeous. 

Ben stares. “You—really want to know?” 

She raises both brows. “I asked, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah,” Ben says, incredulous. “You did.” 

  


  


  


  


**June**

“Ben! Hey. Want your usual?” 

“Sounds good,” he says, heart fluttering in his throat. 

Rey winks at him, then smiles, and gets to work. 

Ben lets out a breath, watching her. 

He’s never had a usual before. He’s never been a regular before. 

He likes it. 

He likes her. 

He’s pretty sure he’s _in love_ with her, actually, and that’s something that’s never happened for him before, either. 

Down the bar, Rey picks up a cocktail shaker, hefting it over her shoulder. Ice clinks, and she looks at him, tilting her head. “Today was your big presentation, right? How’d it go?” 

Something in Ben’s chest constricts, expands, reaching out to her. 

_Love_. 

He's in love. 

He has to be. 

  


  


  


  


**July**

He’s going to do it. He’s going to ask her out. 

He’s worked up to it all week. Has talked himself into it and out of it and back again a thousand times. 

But he loves her. And he has to tell her. 

She _deserves_ to know. 

Paper from the florist crinkles in his hand. A bouquet of lavender. Vibrant, fresh, and fragrant. 

The scent is relaxing, supposedly. Ben inhales deeply, then deeper, wishing that were so. 

A ragged exhale. A swinging door. 

A wide smile from Rey as soon as she sees him. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, she’s so pretty. 

“Ben. Hey!” Her eyes land on the bouquet. “Hot date tonight?” she asks, teasing. 

His hand tightens, knuckles white. “No, ah—” He winces. He thrusts the lavender forward, his carefully-crafted plan flying out the window. “—they’re for you.” 

Rey puffs out a laugh. “What?” she asks, like she didn’t hear him. 

“I got them—I saw them—they’re for you.” 

Rey freezes. 

Frozen shoulders. Frozen smile. 

After what feels like half a lifetime, she accepts the bouquet. “Thank you,” she says stiltedly, holding them close. “They’re beautiful.” 

Ben feels like he’s going to throw up. 

It’s—it is _not_ going the way he thought. But he can’t back down now. 

He swallows thickly. “I was wondering—I was thinking _maybe,_ if you wanted, we could—” 

“Don’t.” 

His heart skips. His eyes fly to hers. “But you—” 

“Please don’t.” 

He stares, helpless. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.” 

“I do,” Rey says, pitching her voice low. The other patrons, the ones he so often forgets about, look over, side-eyeing him. “And—just don’t, okay?” 

No. He can’t. He shakes his head. “But I have to ask you—I have to _tell_ you—“ 

“Ben. Please. I—I _like_ you, okay—” 

“I _love_ you.” 

A beat. 

A silence. 

Heart racing, chest stuttering, he whispers, “I love you.” 

Rey doesn’t appear to be breathing. “You don’t.” 

“I do.” 

“You _don’t_ ,” she says. “You can’t. You don’t _know_ me.” 

“What are you talking about? I’ve known you for _months_.” 

“Then what’s my last name?” 

“I—” His mouth clicks shut. 

“If you know me, then what’s my last name?” 

He reaches, grasping. “That doesn’t matter.” 

“My name doesn’t matter?” 

“ _No_. No—I.” He shakes his head, panicked. Frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“But it’s what you said.” Rey's eyes are hard. “How about this, then—what am I studying in school?” 

Ben swallows, heart in his throat. “Psychology?” 

“No.” 

“Education?” 

“No.” 

Ben can hardly speak. “Computer science?” 

“I’m not _in_ school, Ben. I’ve never been _in_ school.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh.” Rey crosses her arms, bits of lavender falling out of the bouquet and onto the floor. “Can you even—can you even tell me _one_ thing—one _stupid_ , miserable thing—about me?” 

_You’re beautiful._

_You’re kind._

_I feel like a different, better person when I’m around you._

Ben opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. 

“That’s what I thought,” Rey says. “You’ve never once asked me about myself, and you _love_ me?” She hardens further. “You don’t _know_ me. No one does.” 

And then, to Ben’s horror, right as things couldn’t possibly get any worse, tears form in the corner of Rey’s eyes. 

She blinks, and they fall. Wet tracks down her freckled cheeks. 

“I—I’m sorry.” 

Rey’s chin wobbles. 

And Ben does the only thing he can: 

He leaves. 

  


  


  


  


**Days, Weeks, Months**

He doesn’t go back to the bar. 

That doesn’t mean he stops drinking, though, because he doesn’t. 

He drinks, and he goes to work, and he drinks at work. Scotch, usually. Sometimes bourbon. 

Never enough. 

In two short, slow-moving months, he earns a commendation, then a promotion, then a raise. And, his boss tells him, he’s on track for another. 

Professionally? He’s great. Doing great. Never better. Things are the _best_ they’ve ever been. 

  


  


  


  


**October**

He quits his job. 

  


  


  


  


**November**

He calls his mother. 

  


  


  


  


**December**

He calls his dad. 

  


  


  


  


**January**

He goes to a party. 

A _birthday_ party. His first in years. 

“Benjamin!” Maz cries, her arms outstretched. She grabs him, then leans up on tiptoe to pinch his cheek. “You came.” 

Ben crouches to help her reach, smiling a little. “I did.” 

“Good boy,” Maz says, patting his arm. 

“How old are you this year, again?” 

“Ah- _ah!_ Don’t ruin it, child. Not when you’re doing so well.” She pushes him forward into the living room. “Now go—explore. Have a drink. Meet someone new.” 

Ben snorts. “Okay, Maz.” 

But then he does. He tries. 

The room is _filled_ with people. Some old, some young, some in-between. It’s an entire life’s worth of people. And a well-lived one at that. 

His parents will be here soon. Until then, he’ll… mingle. Meet someone new. 

Or— 

Maybe not. 

A lithe brunette in a lumpy, handknit sweater leans over the buffet table, heaping a scoop of something that might be hummus onto a paper plate, and Ben’s stomach plummets past his feet. 

Before he can move, breathe, do anything at all, Rey turns. 

She shoves an entire pita chip in her mouth, then spots him, eyes going wide. 

Ben fights a grimace. He waves. 

And, after a moment of hesitation, Rey waves back. 

Then she walks over to him, straight-backed, brave as anything. 

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hi,” he parrots back. 

She looks—good. Beautiful. But also different. 

Different, just standing next to him. Different, without the bar in between. 

“You know Maz?” Rey asks. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s an old family friend. You?” 

“Same. Well, a new one. New _friend_ , anyway.” She clears her throat. “My teacher—” she nods now, gesturing toward the tall, scruffy man he’s known all his life with her chin, “—introduced us.” 

He ignores Chewie, though, and asks, “Your teacher?” 

“Yeah. I’m—uh, I’m in school now. Trade school. I’ve always liked cars. Machines. Fixing things.” 

He would never have guessed. 

“That’s _great_ ,” he says, and means it. “I’m really glad to hear that.” 

Rey nods again, a little awkwardly. “And you? The—the whole hedge fund thing? How’s that going?” 

“Quit,” he says. “About three months back.” 

Rey looks at him, appraising. She smiles. “Good for you.” 

Ben’s chest swells. Before silence can take them, he asks, “And the bar? Still working there too?” 

Rey grins. “ _Nope_. If I never have to make a cocktail again, it’ll be too soon.” She pauses. “Well, margaritas are okay. And old fashioneds. But nothing fancier than that.” 

“What about the—the, um. Shit.” He lets out a self-conscious laugh. “I can’t even remember what it’s called. The purple, bubbly drink? The one you said was your favorite?” 

“The Requiem for a Remedy?” Rey blanches. “No. God, _no_. I _hate_ lavender. The way it smells, how strong it is, _cloying_ and—” She cuts herself off, wide-eyed, and looks at Ben. “I mean, hate is a strong word.” 

Ben’s ears burn. “That’s okay. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

“I’m not. There aren’t many things I hate. Not really.” 

He swallows. “Can I ask—can I ask why you recommended it, then?” 

Rey shrugs. “I always recommended it. It was the most expensive drink on the menu.” 

Ben inhales. 

That thought had never occurred to him. Not even once. 

He smiles, chagrined. “Smart.” 

Pink-cheeked, Rey smiles back. “I try to be.” 

Ben stares at her, wondering. 

He really doesn’t know her, does he? 

He’d like to. 

“Rey—I want to apologize. What happened at the bar—I should _never_ have done that. Put you in that position. It was presumptuous of me. I’m sorry.” 

Rey is quiet for long enough that he starts to sweat. 

“Thank you,” she says, finally. “I accept your apology.” 

Ben lets out a breath. 

And then, for levity's sake, and also because he wants to, he asks her another question. “So, if lavender’s out, what’s your favorite herb?” 

“Herb,” she says with a laugh, correcting his pronunciation. “And rosemary.” 

“Rosemary,” Ben repeats. “I love rosemary.” 

Rey hums, smiling a little. “It’s the best.” 

“And flower? Do you have a favorite flower?” 

Rey pauses, looking up at him. “You—really want to know?” 

He does. 

More than he thinks he can express. 

“I do.” 

Her eyes light up, and it warms something in him. A thing that’s grown, and is trying to grow, stunted and damaged as it is. 

He’s trying with himself, now. Tending. Taking care. 

Rey leans forward. “Crocuses,” she admits, whispering, like it’s a secret. 

Ben leans forward right back. His heart feels light. “What are crocuses?” 

“ _Weeds_.” 

“Weeds?” 

Rey nods, enthusiastic. “Essentially, if not technically. You’ve seen them before, I bet—on the side of the road, in the cracks in the sidewalk, punching up the concrete. They come in all kinds of colors, and come back every year. You can _eat_ them, too, and—” Rey cuts herself off with a laugh. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m probably boring you, aren’t I? You can tell me if I am.” 

Ben smiles widely.

“No,” he says. “You’re really not.” 

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. :)
> 
> Please accept this fic in lieu of the 20k one-sided enemies-to-lovers, one-sided ben-is-a-dumbass service industry fic I do not have time to write. Thanks, [Tofu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicytofuuuu/pseuds/spicytofuuuu), for talking me through some things here! 
> 
> I'm [@AllFrak](https://twitter.com/AllFrak) on Twitter. Come say hi if you want!


End file.
